Finals Week
by crazybeagle
Summary: Finals week. Synonym? Purgatory. Trial by fire. No wonder Fiyero's not particularly motivated, but somebody's determined to change that. For the first time in...well, ever, crazybeagle presents a purely fluffy Fiyeraba. Happy Lurlinemas, deeplyshallow!


_**Finals Week**_

**Okay, this was written for two reasons—the first is for the sake of deeplyshallow, because she's wanted me to get back on board with Wicked for awhile now, so in lieu of a new Supernatural fic, here's this: what I believe to be my ONLY completely angst-free, fluff-only Wicked story. *gasps* Who knew I was capable of that? And the second is the fact that I just came off a particularly icky finals week myself, and everytime finals week rolls around I get this maddening urge to write fanfiction, even though I don't have time. So here's a fanfiction, ABOUT finals week. HA. Oh, and it's a Fiyeraba. **

Finals week.

Synonym? Purgatory.

Trial by fire.

Every student at Shiz agreed—cramming five months' worth of information into a week's worth of terrifying tests, back to back, each of which was worth a staggering amount of one's grade? Now _that _was true torture. Most said it was merely senseless cruelty on the part of the teachers—taking revenge on them for a semester's worth of lectures to prepare and papers to grade by forcing the students to lock themselves away in their rooms to study, panicked and sleep-deprived, while the rest of the world was enjoying the beautiful pre-Lurlinemas snows or the balmy spring weather.

The signs of every student rapidly approaching their breaking point were everywhere as this fall semester drew to a close. Boq had locked his roommate out of the room, insisting he needed to review for his Agriculture exam one more time as if convinced he would fail (although Elphaba, who'd been helping him study his notes all week, was convinced that he was more than ready for it.) Avaric, said roommate, banged obnoxiously on the door a few times, telling him to come out and to come with him and his friends to the local pub, and that the only thing that'd _really _do him any good at any point was a few swigs of malt whiskey. Not that Boq could ever loosen up enough for alcohol, but still… A minute or so and he gave it up with a shrug and headed off to the pub himself, his last exam having been completed earlier that day.

And sometime in the middle of the week, Pfannee could be seen on a bench in one of the many nooks that dotted the stone hallways of Shiz, sobbing into Shenshen's arms and swearing up and down that it was no use trying to study for her Calculus exam: she was failing anyway and from day one she hadn't understood a word that the old bat of a teacher said, and that her mother and father would simply _hate _her if she didn't pass. Two hours later found Shenshen dragging her tearful friend to Galinda's door, and pleading with Galinda to convince her green bean roommate to tutor the poor girl. Elphaba grudgingly agreed and wound up helping Pfannee pass the course, just barely, but she mentally noted that she'd really spent just as much time studying her own notes as she had helping others study.

There were only two students at Shiz for whom finals week was a breeze. The first of these students was Miss Galinda Upland.

Now Miss Galinda was far from worried by reason of her stellar self-confidence… whether there was any truth to it or not, she steadfastly believed that she was indeed a brilliant pupil, and that any teacher was _lucky _to be graced by her presence in their class. Any bad grades she'd received in the past she merely chalked up to the teachers' "bad taste." So, she reasoned, there was hardly a need to strain herself with studying—loss of sleep was unattractive, and she'd do better anyway if she rested up. Not that she had _anything _to worry about. She spent her week strolling around the grounds of the school, enjoying the snow, or venturing out into the town of Shiz proper to sit at a café with the latest edition of _Ozmopolitan _and sip cocoa. That, and spending plenty of quality time with Shiz's only other student who did not believe that studying was a worthwhile endeavor on finals week, one Prince Fiyero Tiggular.

Now Fiyero's rationale was the fact that he literally couldn't flunk out. Sure, he could technically fail, but his parents' money and status would see to it that he was in no danger of _not _graduating. And what was a degree, anyway? It wasn't like it mattered whether or not the future king of the Vinkus had a college degree. Everyone would have to obey him anyway, right? So why bother actually trying to excel on his exams? There were no classes this week, and the snow was incredible—something he wouldn't get to experience once the week was over and he took the train back to his dry desert home. Life was good; why make it harder than it needed to be for something that didn't matter in the long run? No, this week was for him. He was going to have fun with it.

So Thursday evening, the evening before the last day of finals, found Elphaba, Galinda, and Fiyero in front of the fireplace of the Crage Hall common room, the only area in the girls' dorm building in which boys were allowed after hours. It was snowing once more outside; at this rate the Saturday trains home would likely be delayed because of it. Galinda, who had taken her last exam only a couple hours before, was snuggled up against Fiyero, asleep with her head on his shoulder and snoring softly. Elphaba was splayed out before the fireplace with an array of textbooks and notes spread out before her. A fountain pen was caught in her teeth, her dark knee socks had fallen down around her ankles, and her brow was furrowed as she squinted down at her book through her spectacles. All in all, Fiyero thought the image she painted was rather endearing, but he'd never say as much.

His relationship with his girlfriend's roommate was precarious at best, as she was testy and temperamental. While despite himself he had grown rather fond of the peculiar girl, he could never tell if that fondness was reciprocated. Exchanging insults and biting banter had become a sort of sport between them, but every now and then, she'd say something to him or do something that was…confusing. Something that was almost, if he didn't know any better, _nice._ In her own way, of course. Like two months ago, for example, he'd gotten a haircut. Her response? _Hm. I suppose it suits you. _A pause, and a good-natured smirk. _And now, you won't have to use nearly so much hair gel as you used to. That's good—it'll make you look less conceited than you actually are. _And then a few weeks ago, when he'd come down with a bad cold and didn't want to leave his room, she'd come by one day and brought him some soup, handing the bowl to him with a defensive _I figured that if you starved to death because you were too lazy to leave your room, I'd never hear the end of it from Galinda, so here. _He had no idea what to make of her. He _wanted _to like her, but…Oz, were all women this confusing?

He stared into the flames for awhile, not wanting to interrupt her and break her concentration for fear of provoking her wrath. But Lurline, he was so _bored. _He held off for a minute or so longer, but in the end he figured that even picking a fight with her was better than sitting here in dull silence.

"So Fae…"

"Don't call me Fae." She didn't look up.

He rolled his eyes. "Alright then, _Elphaba—._"

"That's _Miss _Elphaba."

"Fine, '_Miss _Elphaba,'" he said, mimicking her clipped tone. "So what are you studying?"

"Philosophy."

"Oh." A pause. "Is it interesting?"

"I suppose."

A slightly longer pause. "Is it _hard_?"

Her head jerked up and she glared. "Well it'd be _easier _if you would quit talking at me."

"Sorry." But he wasn't, really. Come to think of it, irritating her was admittedly kind of fun. It always got a gratifying reaction. He tilted his head to see if he could read any of what was written in the book. "So what's the book?"

"Don't you have a final tomorrow too?" she snapped. "Why aren't you studying for that? Lurline knows you could use it."

"That's cold, Elphie," he said in a tone of mock hurt.

"But it's true. What's your final for, anyway?"

"Political Science."

"_Have _you studied?"

"Well no…" He sounded a little sheepish. Huh, that was weird. What was there to be sheepish about? It wasn't like studying would do him any good. And he didn't want to start having a guilty conscience about it _now,_ curse her, so he ignored the feeling.

"Thought not." She went back to her book.

Fiyero exhaled loudly. Well, this was going nowhere fast. She wasn't even _fun_ to fight with right now. He absently plucked at one of Galinda's curls that had spilled onto his shoulder, twisting it and admiring the gilded tones in the lock as the firelight hit it. Galinda's hair always smelled really nice, too—floral, distinctly floral, like that lilac shampoo she liked to buy in one of the local shops.

"Fiyero, are you smelling my roommate's hair?"

He quickly dropped the lock. "No."

"A-ha," she said sarcastically, and turned back to her book. "Just wondering. You got quiet up there. It seemed suspicious."

"Oh, shut up."

She shrugged. "Not very gentlemanly, if you ask me. Though I guess _she _wouldn't protest too much to that."

His face burned. "Don't you…don't you have work to do?"

"I'm not the only one," she said mildly.

"Well…" Blast it, he _did _feel sort of guilty now. What on earth was it about _her _that elicited that sort of reaction from him? So, he did what any self-respecting male would do in such a situation: he tried to justify himself. "There isn't a point, really. If I fail it, it's not like I'll have to leave Shiz—"

"And your parents paying off the school to keep you here will inspire _astounding_ confidence in you in the eyes of your future subjects, I'm sure."

_Damn_ her.

"But…but it's not like I'll have to retake _this _class, anyway…" he floundered for a way to win the argument.

"No, but the future _king _of the Vinkus having to rely on his parents' cash to pass his Political Science 101 class? That's pretty _astounding_ to _me._"

He just sat there and scowled. She shrugged and went back to her books. "But have it your way," she muttered.

"Well...it's too late now, at any rate. It's nearly eleven o'clock—"

She raised an eyebrow. "It's _never _too late on finals week. Boq, for example, hasn't gotten a wink of sleep this week, and you know what? I think he's better for it."

"Well that's because Boq's a—"

"A what?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

She sighed, exasperated. "What's the format of your exam going to be, do you know?"

"The…format?"

She scoffed. "I _mean_, what do you actually have to _do _for the exam?"

"Oh. Uh…I have to write an essay. We get to choose our own topic, and we get three hours."

"Really?" She sounded surprised. "Is that all?"

"_All_? Fae, are you kidding me? That's gonna be a complete pain in the—"

"Why?"

He couldn't even _believe _her right now. "A _three-hour _essay, Elphaba," he said dryly. "On _politics._"

"So?" she said. "Just pick a topic you know a lot about."

"Okay, then. That limits my options down to about…zero."

"Oh come on, Fiyero. I don't believe that."

"You don't?" he snorted. "Oh, so I'm _not _a complete airhead, then, like you've been telling me every day since I got here?"

Now it was _her _turn to look sheepish. "Well…no. Lazy, yes, but not an airhead. At least, not a _complete _airhead."

"Really?" He had to admit he was a little pleased.

She nodded.

"Well I'm touched, Fae, really—"

"_Don't _call me F—"

He ignored her. "—but that still doesn't mean I have an essay topic."

"Come now, I'm sure you must be able to think of _something._ You're the son of a king. I _know _you've picked some things up. And don't even try to deny it," she said when he opened his mouth to protest, "because I've seen you show it. Remember that day in Dillamond's class when you and that boy Dorset were practically having a shouting match about the peasant riots in Emerald City?"

"Well it was only because that complete _ass _of a Gillikin aristocrat's son thought that the Wizard should put all the instigators of those riots to death instead of granting an amnesty, when it was people like _him_ and his parents who caused all the problems in the first place, and it's mostly _our _people filling the slums, us and the Quadlings, and that bastard had the nerve to—Wait, what are you smiling about?"

"There you go."

"What?"

"That's your topic."

"What do you mean?"

"The riots. Write about the riots." She was beaming now. "You know the politics behind them, and obviously you _care—_"

"Well…" Ugh. She just didn't get it, did she? "Well yeah, I care, but that's 'cause… Like I said, it affects the Vinkans, and the way it was handled was kind of insulting to us, so we all _care_. That's not the issue."

For some reason, she looked like she was going to laugh. "Well, what is the issue?"

"The issue is, I don't know enough about it to fill up a three hour essay with all the specifics. It's not like I've studied it, I've just heard stuff here and there from my parents."

She did laugh this time. It wasn't bitter or harsh, with that cackling quality it always took on when she was mocking him, but light and full of honest surprise and, well, delight. "You are so stubborn, you know that? So you don't know all the facts. That's easily remedied. It's called research, and if you start now, you've got the time."

"Research or no, I'm still a pretty awful writer—"

"I think you'll surprise yourself." She said with a wry smile.

"Why?"

"Because you _care_."

Now it was his turn to laugh. She was unbelievable, really.

A moment passed, and he thought she'd gone back to her books. But apparently not, because then she looked back up at him. "And you know what else I think?" she said quietly.

"What?"

"That _because _you care, whether you think you will or not, you'll make a pretty decent king someday." A pause. "Provided you apply yourself…and do some research."

He snorted. "Really, Elphie, I think I'd sooner…I don't know, get put to death as a traitor than make a decent king."

"Well, keep telling yourself that," she said, turning back to her books. "But we'll see who's right in the end." She hesitated. "…And if you repeat that to anyone, I'll deny it, I swear."

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

He stared at the flames for a second longer. If he _did _want to do any exam preparation tonight, he needed to get moving. But the thing was…

Elphaba wasn't wrong in accusing him of laziness. He really, _really _didn't want to stay up all night doing stupid _research._

She looked up at him. "Shouldn't you be off to the library, then?"

"Yeah, but…Elphaba, even if I do take the final, I think I'd have to do a damn near perfect job of it in order to boost my grade enough to pass the class. In fact, I don't even know if I _can _pass the class at this point, final or no, so…why bother?"

"It's the principle of it," she said simply, going back to her book.

"You mean you want me to stay up all night researching an essay topic that probably won't make any difference at all to my grade…for the sake of my _principles_?"

She shrugged and scribbled a note in the margin of one of her notebooks. "Do it or don't. Suit yourself."

_Aw, Fae…_

When Fiyero practically stumbled out of his Political Science classroom when his exam period let out, Galinda was waiting for him. Surprisingly, so was Elphaba.

Galinda greeted him with a tight hug and kiss, congratulating him, but Elphaba merely leaned against the wall, one eyebrow quirked, and said, "Well?"

"Think I passed," he said wearily, joining Elphaba in leaning against the wall. Last night had been nightmarish—he'd been in the library literally all night long, going straight to his exam after a brief stop in his room to change his clothes. He was completely burnt out, his vision fuzzy at the edges from having stared at an exam paper for three hours straight. His back and shoulders were sore from bending over a desk all night long. His entire body was simultaneously exhausted and impossibly jittery: he didn't think he'd ever had so much coffee in his life as he'd had last night.

He expected sarcasm, but all he got in response was a smile. "Good."

"Don't know how you do it, though," he said, blearily rubbing his eyes. "Studying every single day like you do? One night of it just about killed me."

"Well," she said, quickly regaining her typical derisive air. "_Some _of us don't leave an entire semester's worth of work until the last possible second."

"Oh come on now, Elphie, can't you see that Yero's had a completely horrendible night?" Galinda said indignantly, snaking an arm around Fiyero's waist. "He doesn't need this from you right now."

"Yeah, what she said," Fiyero said in a wounded tone, but he winked at Elphaba over Galinda's head.

He could've sworn he saw her wink back.

*End*


End file.
